Damsel In the Dress, Again
by WritePassion
Summary: Sequel to "Damsel In the Dress". Just when Yvette thought her life was becoming normal, her world came crashing down. Can Sam come to her rescue again?
1. Chapter 1

By request, a sequel to Damsel in the Dress. As usual, only Yvette is mine, all others I'm borrowing. Thanks to purdys pal for giving me some ideas for this story!

11/26/2011 - Like Damsel in the Dress, I did some editing on this story.

**Damsel in the Dress...Again**

By WritePassion

_._

Yvette struck the match, watched the flame flare up a moment, and touched it to the two wicks. The candles spread their warm glow around the small table, and she smiled at the coziness of the whole scene. She set out her best china, some elegant pieces she found in a thrift store. Their bright white surfaces turned a honey gold in the light, and the silverware sparkled. Everything was perfect. The scent of beef Wellington wafted from the tiny kitchen. It was almost ready. Now all that she needed was for her guest to arrive.

Right on time, she heard a knock on the door. She rushed to answer it, but tried to keep her heart from racing. After spending the past few weeks getting on her feet, finding a job and a place to live, she finally had the means to properly entertain, and she looked forward to it eagerly. How many times she longed to repay the man behind the door for his kindness to her! Now she had the chance.

"Hi," Yvette breathed as she opened the door and beamed at her guest, her eyes only on him.

"Hi, Yvette." He grinned. "I brought you a little something."

"Oh, how thoughtful of you, Sam! Come in!" She stepped aside as she took the bottle of wine from him, and when he passed into the apartment, she couldn't help but slowly peruse him from head to toe. He was dressed in a nice suit, which was so unlike him. The dark gray was offset by a soft peach shirt that only Sam Axe could rock. She was impressed that he bothered, when the invitation was for just a casual dinner. Who was she kidding? She dressed up for the occasion in a light green wraparound dress that showed off every curve. Her matching pumps propelled her into the dining area behind Sam and his polished black shoes.

Sam whistled at the presentation and the low lighting. "Wow, you really outdid yourself, Yvette."

"Thanks. I...I wanted to properly thank you for saving my life." She fiddled with the neck of the bottle, her thumbnail picking at the label. The dangerous second guessing herself began to take root. She could see that he thought there was more to this, and while a girl could wish, she was afraid to be too bold and scare him off. "Um...why don't I chill this, and you can have a seat, relax, and dinner will be ready soon." She escaped to the kitchen to distract herself with preparations.

"You fixed the place up real nice," Sam remarked as he casually poked around the living area.

Her voice carried through the open space between the kitchen and dining room. "Thanks to all of Maddie's castoffs, and her generosity, the place feels like home."

The balcony sliding door was open, letting in a balmy breeze., and soft traffic sounds accompanied by the beat of salsa music from somewhere down the street filtered inside. Sam stood in the doorway and watched the last of the sunset paint the east a dark mauve. "You've got a great ocean view here."

"Yes, I like it a lot. It's not cheap, but I can manage it on my salary." She brought the wine into the dining area encased in a chilling bucket, then ducked into the kitchen for a few minutes. She returned with two plates and set one at each of the settings. "We can start with the salad. The Wellington is nearly ready."

"Sounds great."

Before Yvette could pull out her chair, Sam was there to take it for her. She wasn't expecting that. With a nod of appreciation, she allowed him to seat her while her esteem for him inched up a notch. As she would soon see, the man who usually wore loud Hawaiian shirts, loose khakis and casual shoes could embrace the finer things and act as refined as many of the high class men she was exposed to during her employ with the late Ms. Romana Roche. It reminded her of those happy times with her friend. She sorely missed her and still held out the faintest of hopes that she would be found alive one day. Yvette pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and caught Sam up on her life since he pulled her half-drowned from the sea.

"I really like working for Mia," Yvette said with a warm smile. "And I think she's really happy with me. She always says I treat the ladies like royalty, helping them pick out dresses and paying attention to every detail as they transform themselves in her designs. I'm simply doing what I did for Romana." She looked up from her half eaten salad and locked eyes with Sam. "I knew she needed that boost to her self-esteem. Mr. Roche treated her like dirt..." She blinked the tears that threatened to spill out and ruin her mascara. "Sometimes it killed me inside to see her so sad."

"It sounds like you were a really good friend to her. Not just an employee."

"I tried. I just wish I knew where she was now." Yvette shook her head. "If...if by some miracle she's still alive, I wish she could come here and move in with me, and then she could live the kind of life I have now. Free...and happy."

Sam didn't want to burst her bubble, so he steered the conversation away from Romana. "I heard from Mike today. He's almost done with his mission for the CIA, just doing the debriefing shuffle." He smiled at her. "While he was down south, he did some digging and found out about a little raiding party headed by Freddie Roche."

Yvette's fork hung half way to her mouth, and she dropped it onto her plate. "Really? Was he able to stop it?"

"It's not going down until next week, and we're gonna be there to stop him." Sam shook his head. "What really baffles me is why Roche is getting involved this time. He usually lets his flunkies do the work for him. Maybe stealing five million in diamonds is a conquest he wanted to head up himself and get the glory." His gaze bored into hers. "I know you've been worried about him coming after you, but he's got bigger things to worry about now. There's no way he's coming back here unless he gets extradited for something in the States." _For Romana's murder, _he thought to himself.

Yvette let out a deep breath and visibly relaxed against the seat back. "Sam, that's the best news I've heard all day!"

"I knew you'd be happy to hear it." His smile widened.

A beep sounded from the kitchen, and Yvette stood. "Excuse me a moment. That would be the entree. Are you finished with your salad?" He nodded, she took his plate and hers, and retreated to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she returned with plates of the beef Wellington, creamy scalloped potatoes and steamed broccoli. They talked of inconsequential things as they ate, getting to know one another better. As Sam spoke with a slightly reluctant tone about his past, dancing around the issue of other women, Yvette sensed that he was trying to prove himself to her, but she didn't know why. He was her hero, and as he became more and more human in her eyes, the attraction she felt towards him grew. She'd been around perfection and wealth for so long, real people with real flaws caused her to gravitate towards them. Sam drew her in more than any other.

At the end of the evening, she hated to see him go, but they both had work and responsibilities the next day. She escorted him to the door and held onto the doorknob, reluctant to let him leave.

"I had a great time tonight, Yvette. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you." He took a step closer, and she did her best to keep her breath even.

"Thank you, Sam, for everything you've done. You're my knight in shining armor." She smiled as the distance slowly closed between them. Her lips parted slightly, anticipating what she hoped would come next.

At the last second, his head tilted and he passed the mark, his lips pressing against her cheek in an all-too-brief, chaste kiss. He spoke softly. "I'll keep you up to date on our investigation."

"Th-thank you." Keeping the disappointment out of her voice took a herculean effort. "Good night, Sam. It was a pleasure having you here."

"It was a pleasure being here," he replied, flashing his dashing grin. "Night, Yvette."

Then he was out the door and it created a barrier between them.

"Lock up after me, okay?"

She heard his admonishment through it. "I will. Thank you, Sam." Her hands fumbled with the deadbolt and locked it, and she pressed her ear against the door to hear his footfalls retreat down the hall. When she couldn't hear them anymore, she whispered, "You are so daft, Yvette! What made you think he would ever be attracted to you?" She let out a little growl of frustration, turned from the door, and gave the messy kitchen a disdainful glance as she passed. It could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam ran a hand across his forehead as he rolled onto his back. The sun sliced right into his eyes and cut away any sleep that remained in his fuzzy brain. He stayed way too late at Yvette's, but she was such good company, and for once it didn't involve a roll in the sack. That was something rare indeed. Before he could completely analyze last night's events, his cell phone rang on the night stand. With a groan, he rolled onto his stomach and reached for it. He squinted at the screen, saw it was Michael, and caught it just before it went to voicemail.

"Yeah, Mikey, what's up?"

"Obviously not you," Michael replied dryly.

"Woah, what got into your yogurt this morning? It's only...oh, crap." He glanced at the clock and noted that it was 8:14. "The airport."

"Nine a.m., Sam. We're going to be late." He paused. "We're waiting downstairs."

Sam groaned and forced himself into a sitting position. "No problem, Mike. I'll be down in five."

Good thing he packed the day before. After ending the call, he hastily grabbed his clothes and jumped into the shower. He multi-tasked, soaping himself down and brushing his teeth at the same time. Fortunately, his mind wasn't so fuzzy that he got the toothpaste mixed up with the liquid soap, or he would have had a very unpleasant morning. He quickly rinsed, spit, and lathered up his hair before ducking under the spray and finishing the job. He ran a towel haphazardly over himself, dressed, and glanced in the mirror. Blinking, he realized something he'd forgotten and reached for the little case on the counter. A few seconds later, he could see clearly again and inspected the budding stubble on his jawline. He shaved last night for the dinner date, so he didn't need to worry about that for another three or four days at least, until the scruff became unattractive to the ladies. He slipped a comb from the drawer, ran it through his hair, and splashed on some cologne. Sam Axe was ready for action.

He grabbed his suitcase, which sat near the door, and quickly left the apartment. If only he'd had time for a cup of coffee, but that would have to wait until they reached the airport. As he pushed open the glass door that led from the apartment lobby to the steps, he noted Michael propped himself against the Charger, glancing at his watch. Sam grinned and asked, "So how'd I do, Mikey?"

"Amazing. You still had 20 seconds left."

Sam laughed. "I told you five minutes, didn't I? I'm nothing if I'm not a man of my word."

Fiona stood next to the open trunk, into which Sam threw his luggage. She slammed it hard, almost catching his hand in it, and he gave her a hard look. "You said you would be at the loft at 7:00."

"Oh...yeah...sorry about that. Yvette invited me over for dinner last night, and..."

"Say no more, Sam." Fiona held up a hand to stop him and turned away. "I'd rather not hear the details."

"But nothing happened. I swear! We just talked."

Fiona ignored him as she got into the back seat. Michael kept an eye on his friends as he sat in the driver's seat and Sam rode shotgun. It was a quiet ride to the airport until Sam broke the ice.

"Any new information on Roche and his escapade?"

"No, unfortunately. Hopefully once we get there and find the diamond seller that they're planning on robbing, we can stake things out for a few days."

"I think we should survey the marina," Fiona suggested as she crossed her legs and swung her free leg absently. "Find the Lorelei."

"That's a good idea, Mike." Sam paused and glanced at his friend. "Maybe you and Fi can pretend to be some high class people, come up with a good cover story to get you close to Roche. Then we could work it from the inside out."

"We'd have to find the Lorelei first. No one seems to know where it's docked." Michael shook his head. "It's a great idea, but until we know where it is in Rio, we'll have to spend our time gathering more intel and hope we get lucky and find the yacht."

"Okay, however you wanna work this." Sam fell silent, wondering why there was a wall between himself and Michael and Fiona. He kind of wished Jesse could have made the trip so he wouldn't be the odd man out.

While they waited for boarding, Fiona took a trip to the ladies' room. It gave Sam an opening to speak to Michael. "Hey, what's up with you two this morning? Did I really get you that mad for being late?"

"No, Sam. It's Fiona. You know she's gotten to be really good friends with Yvette...and I think she feels a little protective towards her. You having dinner with her...alone...probably got her Irish temper up. Don't worry about it. She'll get over it, especially if nothing happened." He glanced at Sam over his sunglasses. "Nothing happened, right?"

Sam let out a sound of exasperation. "Didn't I already say that? Geez, Mike, you're just as bad as Fiona!"

"I guess I'm just kind of surprised, that's all. She's an attractive woman...but I suppose it's entirely possible for you to be just friends with her." He smirked. "Unusual, but possible."

"You're damn right, skippy." Sam crossed his arms and stared out at the tarmac. "It'd be like...lake dating my sister, Mikey."

"You don't have a sister, Sam."

Sam spun around to see Fiona standing behind him with an apologetic smile on her face. He squinted at her and replied, "Well, if I had one, she'd be like Yvette."

"Fair enough." Fiona nodded and her sour mood disappeared with the action. She stepped over to Michael's side and followed their gaze to the jet that waited for boarding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, flight 845 to Rio de Janiero, with stops in Mexico City and Bogota now boarding. Please have your boarding passes and passports ready."

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Sam announced, grabbed his bag, and headed for the line without waiting for Fiona and Michael.

Fiona held Michael back with a hand on his arm. He glanced down at her grip and asked, "Fi, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Michael." She smiled, her lips holding a secret that was not for Sam's ears. "When I took my little detour, I called Yvette to get the real scoop on last night." One corner of her mouth tipped up as she continued, "Apparently Sam was telling the truth. And Yvette was quite disappointed, apparently."

"Really..."

"I think she's fallen in love with our wayward playboy." Fiona's eyes drifted to Sam and focused on him chatting up the gate attendant. Unfortunately for him, she was immune to his charms. "As long as Sam doesn't reciprocate, hopefully she'll get over it. If not...I'll give him no choice but to let her down...gently, of course."

Michael frowned and his voice took on a warning tone. "Fi, it's probably best not to get involved. Let them work it out between themselves. Yvette's an adult, she can handle this."

"You're right. I just can't help but be protective after all she's been through."

Michael nipped any further discussion in the bud by taking her elbow and guiding her toward the dwindling line. "We better get on that plane. We can talk about this later...much later."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Four days of investigation, and they knew where the heist would take place, so the trio concentrated on the scheduled diamond shipment that was due on Friday. They worked with the owner to gain his cooperation, and they were just about ready to put their plan into action.

Fiona heard a knock on the door. She was busy fastening a necklace, but Michael was in the shower, so she had no choice but to answer the door. Ever vigilant, she held a handgun behind her back, just in case.

"Fiona. Hi."

Her eyes narrowed at the strange woman. "Who are you?"

"I'm Agent Maria Torres, and this... is Agent Manuel Diego. We're with the CIA."

"Really." Fiona's tone was like ice as she voiced her disbelief.

The agents held up their identification for her to see. "Is Mr. Westen available?"

"No, he's n..."

"Fi, who's at the door? If it's Sam, let him in." Michael appeared behind her, still dripping from his shower, clad only in a pair of khaki shorts. "Oh, hello...didn't expect to see you two."

"You know these people?"

"Yeah. I met them at the agency before we came down here." Michael gave her a thin, apologetic smile, then turned to their visitors. "I told your boss I could take care of things with my team. We know where and what day, and about what time the diamond shipment is expected."

"Good. And what's your plan?"

"We wait, and when they attempt to take the diamonds, we come in and take them by surprise."

Agents Torres and Deigo shook their heads with silent mirth. "Just the three of you?" Diego chuckled. "Our intel says they'll have at least eight guys."

Michael's mouth hung open. "How did you know..."

"We've been following Roche for awhile now, and when you jumped into the fray, we figured we had some extra tactical support. But this our show, Westen. Our plan, you just go along with it and everything will be over in no time."

"We'll keep in touch. If you don't hear from us before noon, don't bother going to the merchant yourselves, because we'll have it all wrapped up by then." Diego winked and he and Torres turned as one and walked down the hall. They passed Sam, and he gave them a brief glance as he approached the room.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"We're serving as sidekicks on Agents Torres and Diego's mission, apparently." Fiona huffed, turned and pushed past Michael to drop on the bed.

"What? I'm a little lost here, can somebody catch me up, please?"

Michael got Sam up to speed on their friends' visit as he finished dressing. Sam had been through enough with Michael over the years so he felt the tension in his best friend's voice. It was frustrating after having done all the legwork to have someone else swoop in and take over. Unfortunately, that was the way things went sometimes. As a SEAL who worked himself up the ranks, he understood when it was a good time to shut up and obey, and when it was time to tread water and wait for the chance to pounce on an opportunity. This was one of those times for pouncing, Sam suspected.

"Jeez, sounds to me like they aren't even planning on including us. So, are we switching our plan, Mike?"

"Yes. I just don't know what the plan is yet." Michael ground out the words between clenched teeth as his mind raced for an idea.

"Tell you what. I'm gonna go take a walk. That's always good for clearing the head." Sam smiled. "Thought I'd take a little stroll down to the marina and check out all the yachts. I hear there's one in particular that's pretty snazzy. Fi, you wanna join me? Mikey?"

Michael's eyes widened as shock crossed his features. "Sam. How did you find the yacht?"

"A little bird told me." He was grinning now. "Come on, let's go take a look."

Fiona usually carried her essentials, not including weapons, in a small waist pack. Today, however, the operation called for a large beach bag. Nestled in among the scratchy hotel towels were a few pieces of hardware that they picked up from some of Fiona's South American connections, and a pack of C4 that was, in her mind, barely worth the trouble to obtain. But in an emergency, it would do very well. The trio casually walked to the marina which was only a few blocks away. They passed through a marketplace full of colorful fruits, vegetables, and other wares for sale. The shopkeepers chattered in Portugese with their customers, adding to the ordered chaos around them. Well trained to spot trouble in a crowd, they watched warily for anyone who might be tailing them or be on to their plan to find the Lorelei. Soon they were on another street that led straight to the marina.

"Nice boats," Michael remarked after emitting a low whistle. "Lots of floating money out there. So which one do you think it is?" He shielded his eyes against the sun that was high in the sky and scanned the horizon.

"Over there, the white one with the blue and gray striping." Sam pointed at the yacht using only his chin. If Torres and Diego were nearby, he didn't want to give up any information that they could use to outfox the team.

"Nice work, Sam. Do I really wanna know how you found this out?"

Sam chuckled. "I was up early this morning and decided to go fishing."

"Fishing." Fiona raised an eyebrow. "Did you pack your gear in that tiny bag of yours?"

"No. I rented it from the bait shack." He looked at her with narrowed eyes, as if questioning her sanity. "Everybody knows that tourists rent fishing gear all the time." He shook his head and continued. "Anyway, I decided to find a nice pier to fish off of, but I wound up on some rickety thing down the way. As I was casting my line, guess which boat comes cruising past me and heads for the marina? The Lorelei."

"Well, that was a fine bit of luck," Fiona remarked with a smirk.

"You betcha. And I was almost close enough to look Roche the eye. He just stared at me, like he was processing that little spark of recognition, but I didn't let him get a good enough look." Sam grinned. "I casually packed up my gear and took it back to the bait shop. All the while, I watched the yacht sail into its berth." He chuckled. "It was beautiful, Mike. The look on Roche's face was priceless."

"You think he still remembers you after all this time?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I think my face at least triggered something."

"As long as he doesn't figure out who you are, we can still pull this off."

"But Michael, how will we stop them from stealing the diamonds with our two pit bulls taking our positions? We can't apprehend them before, or we'll have nothing to hold them on, and if we wait around here to catch them when they return, we risk losing them to the CIA agents."

"Good point, Fi. We just need to make sure that Torres and Diego aren't there at the right time." Michael started walking at a good clip, forcing Fiona to trot along behind him. Sam fell into step after hurrying a few paces to catch up. "We need to keep an eye on our friends, find out how they're getting around, and...we disable their vehicle. Sam, I don't think they're aware that you're part of our team. Think you can pose as a helpful tourist and really screw things up for them?"

Sam laughed. "It'll be a pleasure, Mikey!"

"Great. Then after you've disabled their car, we'll get to the diamond merchant and put the rest of our plan into motion. If Torres and Diego manage to get there before it goes down, they play by our rules or not at all."

"Sounds like a good plan, Michael." Fiona gave him one of her high-wattage smiles. "This is going to be fun. Although, maybe Sam could, if we're talking really really screw up their transportation, plant a little of that C4 and make some nice fireworks the next time they try to start up their car?"

Michael shook his head vehemently. "We don't want to kill them, Fi. Just get them out of our way for awhile."

Her bottom lip puffed out in a subtle pout. "It was just a suggestion."

"Some other time. I don't think we're going to need any explosives on this mission." They were only a block from their hotel. "Sam, fall back. If Torres and Diego are watching, I don't want them to see you're with us."

"You got it," Sam responded and stopped to casually inspect a display of handmade jewelry. "Keep in touch, and I'll take care of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum."

Sam took long enough for Michael and Fiona to return to the hotel without him. As he studied the delicate silver jewelry, he spied a piece that he found especially attractive with blue stones and beads that accentuated the silver. For some reason, it reminded him of Yvette. He wondered what she was doing, if she felt safe without them around. When he left her after dinner, she seemed on edge and scared. Whether it was for her own safety or his, he wasn't sure.

"You like, mister?"

"Yeah, that's pretty nice." He paused, unsure if buying it for Yvette was such a good idea.

"It is a beautiful piece. My lovely daughters make them, and I sell. You buy for your lovely wife?"

"No, not married."

"Oh, then for your girlfriend, yes?"

He shook his head. "No, she's just a friend."

"Ah, you show her you have good taste, mister."

Sam knew she would like it, because Yvette wore simple, yet elegant, jewelry. Before he could second guess himself, he asked, "How much is it?"

"For you, I give it away for 20 Real."

Sam checked the currency conversion app on his phone, and discovered that it was just over 11 American dollars. That was a steal for such a finely crafted piece. "I'll take it." After it was safely wrapped in colorful tissue paper in a small box and tucked away in his shirt pocket, he continued walking casually down the street. He detoured from the hotel when he spied Torres and Diego near a tamale stand. It was all he could do to not laugh out loud at their awkward stances. They had to have known they looked out of place in their Fed suits, scanning the crowds for their prey. Sam dialed Michael.

"Yeah, Sam. We're at the hotel."

"Did you see Torres and Diego at all when you got there?"

"Yes. They were pretty obvious."

"Rookies, eh? Listen, I've got an idea. I want you two to leave the hotel and walk up the street a few blocks, act like you're out shopping or something. Then while they try to be discreet in following you, I'll tinker with the car so they have a little trouble that I can make even worse later."

"Okay. Call me back if they don't take the bait."

"Will do, brother." Sam ducked into a cantina to wait for Michael and Fiona to lead the shadows away from their vehicle. He hid behind a menu, waited for them to pass, and then hurried to their car. It wasn't very often they had the opportunity to mess with the government yahoos. When it happened, Sam liked to play it to the hilt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Just give it more gas!"

"I know what I'm doing, Diego!" She turned the key, but the car only made a grinding noise a couple times and gave up. "I could press this pedal down all day, but if it won't crank, it won't start!"

Diego hung over the open engine compartment, at a loss of what to do. "I'm sorry, I'm an agent, not a mechanic!"

"Hey, you folks need some help here?"

Diego turned and stood eye to eye with Sam. He narrowed his briefly, and Sam realized the guy recognized him from the hotel hallway. "Who are you?"

"Just another tourist like yourselves, although if I were you buddy, I'd dress a little more appropriately for the weather." Sam pointed at him as he laughed. "You look like you could ditch the suit, try a different shirt...and a beer." He turned his eyes toward the cantina. "Over there, they have the best local cervesas. Trust me on this."

"We don't have time," Diego muttered. "You know anything about cars?"

"Oh yeah, step aside and let me take a look." Sam bent over the engine, pulled on a few wires, and asked, "Could you have your honey try turning it over again?"

Diego would have turned red, except the sun was already doing it for him as he stood nearby with hands on hips. "She's not my...honey..."

"Whatever, you're the guy in a hurry." Sam emerged from under the hood and addressed Torres. "Just turn the key, will ya darlin'?"

Torres threw daggers at him with her eyes, but she complied. It sounded even less active than before. "Do you really know what you're doing, mister? Or should we find a real mechanic?"

Sam held out his hands, urging her to calm down. "Hey, hey, no reason to panic. I've got everything under control here. Just hang on." Anger simmered in her eyes, but at least she stopped talking. "Okay, I'll check it out again."

Sam took enough time to ensure that Michael and Fiona had the chance to get to the merchant and wait for Roche and his men. While Diego and Torres held a heated exchange near the driver's door, Sam replaced the spark plug he'd stolen and made sure it was loosely seated.

"Okay, try it again." Torres turned the key, and it almost caught. Sam scrunched up his face, shook his head, and ducked under the hood one more time. His phone beeped, and he fished it out of his pocket. A text message from Michael read "At target." Sam smiled, twisted the spark plug in place, and pulled away with a satisfied grin on his face. "Okay, I think I got it now."

The car roared to life and Torres and Diego's shoulders relaxed. "Thanks, man. It took awhile, but...I supposed it would have taken us a lot longer to get a local's help."

"Yeah, no problem. You all take care, and...try to have a good time while you're here, okay? You're giving American tourists a bad name."

Diego glared at him, slammed the hood and practically threw himself into the passenger seat. Torres pealed off and turned left onto the street. Sam watched them leave with a pleased smile and guessed that they were headed to the merchant's, trying to make up for lost time by speeding through the streets. He secretly hoped that they would get stopped by the police. When they were out of sight, he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. "You better get ready, Mike. They're coming, if Torres doesn't burn off her tires before they get there."

"We're ready, Sam. There's a van coming down the alley. It's probably Roche and his men."

"Good luck, brother." He hit the end button and turned toward the marina. His part in this little adventure wasn't finished yet. He thought about finding a towel or something to wipe off the grime from his hands, but he would only get them dirty again disabling the yacht. No doubt his powder blue Hawaiian shirt was in danger of taking one for the team, but he was willing to risk it.

Sam made short work of his mission and managed to keep the grease off his shirt. He bought a margarita at the cantina and found a table with a good vantage point to watch the fireworks that were sure to erupt when the yacht headed out to the open seas. No one would get killed, but the big boat would definitely be dead in the water and ripe for the picking by the Brazilian Coast Guard. Sam had already taken care of that too, calling and warning them to be on the lookout for the yacht. In less time than he expected, the black van screeched to a stop in the parking lot and five men got out. They were expecting eight, and he wondered if that was an accurate number, or if Michael and Fiona managed to put a few out of commission. He couldn't hear what Roche and his men were saying, but whatever it was, it involved a lot of shouting and backbiting as they hauled several large black bags to the yacht. His phone beeped.

"Three dead. We're OK. Roche coming your way."

Sam quickly texted back, "Already here. Loading up. BCG alerted, surprise on board."

From the shadow of his wide brimmed hat, Sam watched the remaining crew tear down the marina gangway to the yacht. They threw their load on board, climbed up the ladder, and stood stiffly as they warily scanned the area. One of them untied the boat before climbing up. Roche yelled to the captain, and soon the engines kicked it into gear and the propellers churned up the water like a blender as the yacht pulled away from the dock.

"Have a nice, short trip, boys." Sam saluted the departing craft, took one last sip of his drink, and walked toward the street. He waited only a few minutes before Michael pulled up in a run-down Honda. He was about to get in back when an explosion tore through the routine din of the downtown market.

"Nice work, Sam," Fiona praised as she locked her eyes on the resulting fireball that spewed into the air from the back of the yacht.

"Wow. I guess I, uh, used a little too much."

"Oh nonsense. You can never use enough C4, can you, Michael?"

"Occasionally, yes. Like now." He eyed Sam. "I thought we said no C4 on this mission!"

"You said. I never agreed to that." He pointed toward the melee on the waterway. "It kept 'em from going anywhere, didn't it?"

Michael only glared as he watched the drama unfold.

A Brazilian Coast Guard cutter pulled up alongside the yacht. The men on board drew their guns on the guardsmen, who took this as the threat it was. It was all over in a few seconds. One of Roche's men went down and was obviously dead, and Roche and his last three compatriots and the captain were rounded up, hands bound, and removed from the yacht with the bags of diamonds.

"Another job that ends well," Fiona stated with a pleased sigh. "Let's get out of here. I like a party as much as the next girl, but I want to go home. I miss Miami." She glanced at Michael and smiled. What she really meant was that she missed the loft and the comfortable bed they shared together. The hotel beds were like sleeping on boards, and after a week, it was getting annoying.

"I gotta agree with Fi. Let's haul butt out of here."

"Alright, we'll pack our stuff and check out. Hopefully we can be back in Miami by tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to have to report to my superiors about what happened, especially with their field agents."

"Sorry, Michael."

"Mike, you had no choice. They were going to compromise the whole thing."

"Let's just hope that Pearce buys that." Michael put the car in gear and drove to the hotel.

It always felt good to touch down on American soil, and that day it was no exception. Michael dropped Fiona and Sam off at the loft before reporting to Pearce. Sam didn't envy his friend in the least. If only Michael had stayed freelance, then he wouldn't have to answer to anyone but his clients. Fiona bid him a good day and hauled her overstuffed luggage up the stairs.

"Hey wait, Fi. Let me help you with that."

"I'm fine, Sam. Why don't you go home and give Yvette a call? I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

"Oh yeah, that's real nice, Fi. I already told you nothing is going on between Yvette and me."

She turned and her expression softened, which surprised him. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean it like that, and if it came across that way...I apologize. I'm tired. It was a long day yesterday, and with that flight..."

"No problem, Fi. I'd like to say I understand completely, but that must be one of those women things that guys just don't get." He paused and grabbed the handle of her large suitcase that she let fall to the pavement. "Come on, let me get this upstairs for ya, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Fi's eyebrow twitched up and the faintest hint of a smile played on her lips. "Well, maybe it isn't such a bad thing after all that you spend so much time with Yvette. She brings out your manners." With that, she spun on her heel and took to the stairs. Sam muttered under his breath and followed behind her at a respectable distance. She unlocked the door and entered, and he stepped in far enough to drop the case near the work bench.

"There you go, Fi. See you later."

"Thank you, Sam. It really was nice of you."

"Yeah." He shifted his weight turned towards the door. "Tell Mikey to call me later." He didn't even wait for her response. Sam took the stairs and hit the ground running. He really wanted to go home and get some decent shut-eye, but something was calling him to Yvette's apartment. It was ridiculous. She wouldn't be there. She was scheduled to work at Mia's. He went against his instinct and took a detour to his apartment, just long enough to change his clothes and clean up a little. Then he was off again and stopped first at Mia's Couture. He was in foreign territory, so Sam decided to make it quick. His eyes scanned the small shop from his position near the door, but Yvette was nowhere in sight.

"Excuse me, Sir. May I help you?"

Sam recognized Mia just from the vivid description that Yvette gave him of her employer. He shrugged and glanced around nervously. "I, uh, was hoping to catch Yvette. Is she here?"

"No, and I'm very worried about her. I haven't seen her in a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" Sam's eyes widened in alarm. "Did you try calling her?"

"Yes, but it went to voicemail." Mia's own eyes widened and her face lit up. "Oh, let me guess! You must be her boyfriend, Sam!"

He reddened a little at the insinuation, but replied, "No, no, no, just a friend. Sam Axe."

Mia smiled broadly and her eyes sparkled. "She speaks very highly of you. She says you are her hero." Her smile turned into a grin. "She never said how handsome you were."

The woman knew how to turn on the charm, but Sam had no time for such things. He squirmed under her intense gaze. "If Yvette calls, please call me." He handed her a card. A part of him regretting having to give the woman his number, but if she could help him find Yvette, he was willing to take the risk. He added a qualifier to be on the safe side. "Call me only if you hear from her or know where she is. Okay?"

"Okay." Mia tucked the card into a pocket on her skirt and patted it. "I will let you know as soon as I find out anything."

"Thank you." He beat it out of there as fast as he could, hit the unlock button on his car before he was even close enough to get in, and started it up before putting on his seat belt. His next stop would be Yvette's apartment. As he zipped down side streets and took his car's mechanical abilities to their limits as he careened around corners, he silently prayed that she was okay. He glanced at the small white box that lay on the seat beside him and hoped that he didn't buy the necklace in vain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sam arrived at Yvette's apartment building to find several squad cars parked diagonally across the street, blocking his ability to park directly in front. His stomach threatened to jump into his throat as he got out and pushed his way to the edge of the crowd that hovered around to see what was the cause of the heavy police presence. A cop's beefy arm kept him from going further.

"Sorry, Sir, nobody goes in or out."

"What happened?"

"Can't tell you. Watch the news tonight."

Sam glanced around the scene. He didn't see a coroner's truck or ambulance on the scene, so whatever happened didn't involve someone being injured or killed. That gave him a small sense of relief. He wasn't even sure if it had anything to do with Yvette. Unless he could get into the building, he would have to wait with everyone else. Sometimes, Sam wasn't good at waiting. He glanced toward the side of the building, but the entrance was blocked by a well armed patrolman on watch. There had to be a way in through the alley. Slowly, he backed out of the crowd and picked his way over a tangle of snaking cables toward the narrow lane that ran between the apartment building and other buildings behind it. He passed a small huddle of television and press photographers, who suddenly came to life at the sight of a commotion near the front door. Sam stopped his forward progress and waited to see what would happen next.

Two officers came out of the building with someone between them in handcuffs. He gaped as he heard her voice. Yvette.

"Please, there must be some mistake! I would never hurt Romana! Never! She was my friend!"

A chill ran up Sam's spine. They were taking her to jail, no doubt being arrested for Romana's murder. To his knowledge, no one except their team and the perpetrators knew that a murder had even taken place. And they kept it quiet because of this very reason. He was afraid Yvette would get caught in the maelstrom, and now it happened. He had no time to dwell on their decision, because the distance between the officers and the patrol car decreased with every second. Thinking quickly, Sam ran his hands along the sides of his hair, straightened, and surged forward with purposeful strides. He passed the cameras, and when they registered that he evaded one officer and continued moving as if he belonged there, they trained on him.

"Sir, you can't..."

"You can't treat my client that way. Chuck Finley, I'm Ms. McCain's attorney."

"Chuck? H-how did you..."

He had to hand it to her. In the middle of the confusion, she remembered the cover name he told her about, and advised her that some day he may have to use it for her benefit. "Never mind that now, Yvette. I've got this covered." Although his insides vibrated with tension, he spoke calmly and with the confidence of a lawyer. He was in his favorite cover, and when Chuck Finley was on duty, Sam Axe ceased to exist.

"Mr. Finley, I'm afraid you'll have to wait to speak with your client," one of the officers spoke as he took another step toward the car.

"Yvette, did they read you your rights yet?"

"M-my rights? I-I don't know." Her eyes were fearful as her eyes darted around at the commotion around her. "What do you mean?"

Sam turned his attention to the cop nearest him and noted with satisfaction that he towered over the guy by several inches. He pointed a finger at the guy's nose, accentuating every other word with a short forward thrust. "Did you or did you not read my client her rights?"

"We were about to, if you would just let us do our job..."

"I don't think so, pal. If you'd done your job, you wouldn't be tying up innocent women like they're meat, dragging them out for public ridicule, and hauling them off to jail without benefit of their rights. You're lucky I don't call your boss right now and have you demoted on the spot for incompetence." He jiggled his cell phone in the air for the cop to see. "I've got judges on speed dial. Don't make this any harder than it already is."

Sam had his attention now, and the smaller man swallowed hard. "Mr. Finley, I assure you, it was an honest mistake."

"Honest mistake, yeah right. If that's the case, you're gonna make this right, starting now. You can put her in that squad car, but I'm going along. Understood?"

The man stood for a few seconds in thought, but his partner spoke up and diffused the situation. "Let's just let the guy come along. And read the girl her rights...now."

When the cop got to the part about having an attorney, Sam interrupted. "Yeah, yeah, she's got one and she ain't talkin' to you guys. We'll wait until we get to the station and let some professionals handle this. Okay?"

"Are you really an attorney? You don't look like one." The cop eyed his casual attire with distrust.

"It was my day off until you guys blew it all to hell. Now let's get a move on so we can get this...misunderstanding...taken care of."

They gently urged Yvette into the back seat, and Sam slid in next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and wasn't surprised that she trembled. As the cop pulled into traffic, he whispered into her ear. "It's okay, Yvette. We'll get this straightened out. I promise."

At the station, Yvette was booked while Sam looked on through a glass barrier. He urged her not to say a word until they were alone. In the meantime, he would get to the bottom of this and find out what the police had that would make them think her capable of murder. And how could they have a murder charge without a body?

"Mr. Finley."

A voice Sam recognized from the recent past grated on his ears and he turned with a smirk on his face. "Detective Paxson. I wish I could say it was a pleasure..."

"Mr. Finley...or should I say Mr. Axe? Funny." She smirked right back at him. "You know, I could have you charged with impersonating an attorney."

"I had to do something. They were treating Yvette like a common criminal."

"And why wouldn't they? She IS a criminal. She murdered her employer, Ms. Romana Roche."

"No, she didn't! You got proof? Show me!" Sam's face reddened with anger and his volume rose enough that Yvette heard his muffled voice through the glass.

"Romana Roche's body washed up near Boca yesterday afternoon."

Only a taser hit could have shocked him more. "You found her?"

"Yes." Paxson's eyes narrowed. "I'd be very interested in learning what you know about this case, Mr. Axe. Do we need to consider you as a person of interest? Or maybe Mr. Westen or Ms. Glennanne was involved?"

Sam's shoulders slumped, and he watched Yvette as they led her to a cell. Her eyes were red-rimmed as tears streamed down her face. "It's not my story to tell, Paxson. All I know is what Yvette told me."

"Let's step into this room here for a moment and you can get me up to speed so we can better interview Miss McCain, shall we?" Sam hesitated, and her expression hardened. "Don't make me play hardball here. If you want to help her, you need to tell me what you know."

He bit his bottom lip, met her gaze with his own, and nodded. "She doesn't deserve this. If it'll get her out of here..."

"I can't promise that and you know it. But at least maybe it'll reduce her bail." She studied the tortured expression on his face and wondered what kind of relationship he had with Yvette McCain. Would he lie to get the woman out of jail, or would he not waste her time and give her something she could use to get down to the truth? As much as it would please her to find something that would irritate Michael Westen and his friends, she wanted justice even more. Holding an innocent woman wouldn't help her reach that goal.

Sam sat in the cold metal chair at the scratched metal table as Paxson took a seat across from him. She smiled at him coolly, her eyes narrowed. "So, Mr. Axe...Sam...how do you know Miss McCain?"

"A couple months ago, I was out fishing on the coast one morning, and she...she was caught in a rip current near the jetty. I went in and saved her." It seemed as if the emotions from that day came rushing back in a moment. "By the time I got her to shore, she wasn't breathing. I did mouth to mouth and she eventually coughed up a lot of sea water..."

"How very...courageous...of you." She glanced down at her notebook. "I've been doing some checking up on Miss McCain, but I never came across anything about this."

"Well you won't, because I took her to...a safe house. I didn't know what her circumstances were, but I figured it wasn't good. She was dressed up in an evening gown in the ocean. I had no idea why, so I took her someplace where she would be safe and we could unravel the mystery."

"I see. Did you think you could keep Mrs. Roche's murder a secret and give Miss McCain a free pass to live her life as if nothing had ever happened?"

Sam felt a wave of intense anger build in his chest, but he kept his voice calm. "I don't like how you're jumping to conclusions, Paxson. Maybe you need to do more than look at a dead body washing up on shore and base your case on that? Find some of the staff who were on that yacht, the Lorelei, and I'm sure they'll tell you who the real killers are."

"We'd love to, but Frederick Roche and some of his guards were arrested in Rio yesterday, caught with about five million in diamonds stolen from a large brokerage in the city."

"News travels fast," he muttered.

Paxson gave him a disgusted smile. "Let me guess, you and your friends had something to do with the arrest, is that it?"

Sam sat back in his chair, crossed his arms and steeled his expression. "That's classified information."

She nodded knowingly. "Fine, play that game. The point is, it will take time for an extradition. It doesn't matter, anyway, because I have some classified information of my own, but I don't mind sharing. The staff of the yacht was dispatched shortly before Roche and his men left for Brazil. Only the captain was left on board."

"Dispatched? What do you mean by that?"

Paxson leaned over her crossed arms, which she rested on the table. "They're all dead, Sam, so if you were expecting one of them to vouch for whatever lie Miss McCain fed you, you're sorely mistaken."

"All you've got is a dead body to go on. Where's the murder weapon?"

"We've impounded the yacht and we're going over it. We'll find DNA."

"Of course you'll find DNA! Yvette was her assistant, and she lived on that boat." Sam leaned forward, mimicking her pose. "All that proves is Yvette helped Romana with her wardrobe! That's not good enough evidence to convict her! You know it! You're just fishing for something, coming up empty, and that pisses you off!"

Paxson pulled back, and her face registered surprise at the passion in his voice. But she quickly masked it with her usual cynical glare. "Why don't we just wait and see what comes up in the autopsy, okay?"

"Why would she kill Romana? They were best friends. If you talk to her, you'll see for yourself. Yvette cared for her and pitied her existence with that scumbag Roche. She was going to help her escape when they reached the Bahamas."

"Sounds like I need to have a little conversation with Miss McCain. Things are getting interesting."

Sam could see his information shook the foundation of her case, and it made her uncomfortable. "No kidding. But not before her attorney gets here. Her real attorney."

"And when will that be? I'm running out of patience with you."

"Soon." _As soon as I call her!_

Sam left the interview room hoping he could see Yvette, but Paxson already had her on the way to the interview room. He got a glimpse of her scared eyes as they led her inside. "Hey, you can't interrogate her without her lawyer present!"

"I'm not going to interrogate her, Mr. Axe. Yvette and I will just have a little...chat."

Sam directed his words at Yvette. "It's okay, I'll get help! Trust me!" He was pleased to see her nod. She believed he would take care of her. "Don't tell her anything, you hear me? I'm getting help."

The door closed on Yvette and a guard pulled at his elbow. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave now, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm outta here." Once outside the station, Sam hit the speed dial.

"Sam, what's up?"

"Mikey, I need a ride back to Yvette's to pick up my car."

"Sam...where are you," Michael asked, a wary tone in his voice.

"South Beach station." He let out a breath. "Yvette has a big problem...Paxson's got her meat hooks in her, and I'm afraid she isn't going to let go until she sees Yvette heading to prison for murder."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Fiona met Sam and Michael at Carlito's. At the sight of the dejected furrow in Sam's brow, she focused on him. He didn't speak, just stared into his glass of ice water.

"What happened, Sam?"

He quickly related the story of Yvette's arrest, and by the time he finished, her heart broke for both Yvette and Sam. His concern for the woman touched her. No matter what romantic notions she thought he might have for Yvette, they faded to the background as the crisis took center stage.

"Sam, they've got nothing on her. No murder weapon. Nothing." Michael tried to reassure his friend.

"You and I know that, but Paxson is ruthless. She's going to find something, even if she has to make it up or twist it so people see what she wants them to see."

"We have to do something, Michael!" Fiona rarely, if ever, banged her fist on the table, but she did so today. "She can't get away with crucifying Yvette!"

"It's not going to happen. By now that lawyer you called on the way here..."

"Meredith Taylor," Sam finished for Michael and took a sip of his water.

"Yes, Meredith Taylor. Anyway, by now she should have been able to interrupt Paxson's 'interview' with Yvette. Hopefully before she incriminated herself in anything."

"I'm really worried about her, Mike. I don't think she could lie, or twist the truth, to save her life. Paxson'll eat her alive and spit her out if she says one wrong thing. Mere's her only hope."

"I've heard of her. Where'd you meet her, Sam?" Fiona asked as she absently dunked the celery into her drink.

"At a cocktail party when I was seeing one of my lady friends. She gave me her card, but..." He smiled slightly. "She wasn't my type. I just figured I might be able to use her help someday. I didn't think I'd really need to call her."

"I think we should pay our favorite detective a visit at her precinct and find out what she knows. Sam, you talk to Ms. Taylor and see what her strategy is to get Yvette out of jail and off the list as suspect number one." Michael picked up his cell phone and stood. "Fi, are you with us?"

"Of course, Michael."

The trio got into Michael's Charger and rode to the station. As they approached the building, Paxson was leaving. She smiled at them as if she never had her confrontation with Sam. "Hello, Michael Westen. Long time no see."

"It would have been longer if you hadn't decided to arrest the wrong person for Romana Roche's murder." Michael stood before her with his hands tucked casually into his pants pockets, but his stare was all ice.

"Yes, I'm sure you and your friends will be happy to know that we're looking into that at this very moment. Miss McCain, on advice from her attorney, Ms. Taylor, told us everything she knew." The look on Paxson's face turned sour. "So there are other people of interest now. But don't get too happy. Miss McCain is still waiting bail, because she is a suspect no matter what she told us."

"Well, when's the arraignment," Sam asked, crossing his arms in front of himself as he stared at her.

"This afternoon." Paxson frowned. "I suspect she'll get a low bail, especially after her employer came in demanding she be released. Looks like Miss McCain has a lot of good friends in her corner." A antagonistic smile crossed her lips. "Do me a favor. Tell her not to leave town or I'll have every bounty hunter in the state hot on her trail."

"I assure you, once we get her out of here, she's staying with me," Sam responded coolly. "Someone needs to protect her from the wolves."

Paxson's eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, but Sam suspected they flashed at his insinuation. He didn't care. She tried intimidation on them before, and he wouldn't let her try it again. He turned away and started walking toward the station. Right now, he was so angry with Paxson he didn't care if anyone followed. He just wanted to get Yvette out of this hole and safe. Two sets of footsteps echoed behind him, and he knew Michael and Fiona followed.

"Don't worry, Sam. Yvette will come out of this unscathed. I'd bet my life on it," Fiona declared as she touched his elbow to slow him down.

Sam stopped, looked down into her eyes and saw her pledge come to life in them. He nodded. "Thanks, Fi. I know you guys have got my back, and hers. Now let's see what we can do about getting Yvette out of here."

Inside the station, they found Meredith Taylor. She spoke with a woman wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, but when she spotted Sam, she made a quick end to the conversation and approached them with a smile.

"Sam, it's good to see you again. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances." She grinned and held out her hand. He took it briefly, and she got the message that this was just about business. "And these must be your associates. Hi, I'm Meredith Taylor, Yvette's attorney."

After the pleasantries were completed, Sam asked, "Did you make any progress in freeing her?"

Meredith nodded. "I spoke with Judge Crenshaw. He is the one handling arraignments today." She smiled. "When he heard Detective Paxson was involved in the investigation, he assured me that the bail would be practically non-existent. Yvette should be out within a couple of hours. She's getting ready to go to the courthouse, so if you all want to meet us there, that would be great."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Mere. I owe you one."

"No problem, Sam. I hate seeing innocent people dragged through the mud. I know this girl is innocent."

"How so?" Michael asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Michael..." Fiona chastised him.

"No, he has a perfectly legitimate question here," Meredith spoke warmly, not at all offended by Michael's query. "I know she's innocent because she was unable to commit the crime that night. She was hidden away in a closet, so she heard everything, but when she tried to run, she was nearly killed herself." Meredith traced an imaginary track along her neck. "She still has a little scar to prove it. That, and the cut on her leg. She was attacked. She had no chance to murder her best friend, let alone much else...escape was her only action."

"But it's her word against Roche's men, who most likely did the killing," Michael said. "You'll have to get one or more of them to testify..."

"Which I'm working on." Meredith smiled, but behind the expression, they could see this plan would not be pleasant. "I've talked with the DA already, and he's prepared to offer immunity to Roche's men if they spill on the murder and whatever else they'd like to get off their chests. Then Roche will finally go down for a fraction of the things he's been responsible for committing. Granted, his compatriots will only get light sentences, but at least Yvette will go free."

"That's good news...sort of." Sam frowned. "It just means that somewhere down the line we'll probably run into them again and have to deal with them then."

"Bring it on," Fiona snapped.

Meredith grimaced and held up her hand. "I shouldn't even hear where this conversation is going. I'll see you at the courthouse."

Yvette was ushered into the courtroom, her hands bound before her in cuffs. She looked downtrodden, but when she scanned the meager crowd and caught Sam's intense gaze, she tried to smile. She had no idea if Sam and his friends would get her out of this mess. Meredith waited with a hopeful expression at the defense table.

"Don't worry, Yvette. This will all be over soon," she whispered as her client sat beside her.

"All rise. The honorable justice Anthony Crenshaw presiding." Everyone stood at the bailiff's call and waited until the judge was seated before they settled back into their seats.

"I hope Meredith was right," Fiona whispered into Michael's ear. "I can't imagine Yvette spending a night in jail. Look at her, she's terrified!"

"We just have to have faith that Sam's friend is as good as her word."

"Your Honor, Miss McCain is hardly a flight risk," Meredith pled as she stood. "She has gainful employment, and her employer is adamant that she return to work as soon as possible. She has friends who are here in the courtroom and have pledged to keep her in their custody until the trial, if such a thing comes to pass. She has never been in legal trouble before. We ask that the court take this into consideration and grant a lenient bail."

"I agree, Ms. Taylor," Judge Crenshaw replied with a slight smile aimed in Yvette's direction. "Miss McCain will be free to go on a signature bond." He hit the gavel on the block, and droned, "Next case, please."

Yvette's eyes widened as she turned to Meredith and hugged her as best as she could with the handcuffs still encircling her wrists. The bailiff approached and quickly led her away to an area where they were removed, and after she signed the papers, was officially handed off to Meredith. Her lawyer beamed as she guided her by the elbow out of the gallery and into the hall. There, Yvette was reunited with her friends. Michael and Fiona stood together, victory written on their faces. Sam grinned and held out his arms, and she ran into them. He enveloped her and pressed her close.

"Thank you, Sam! You saved my life again." She spoke into his shirt, and her voice came out muffled.

"Well, this time I had help." He winked at Meredith and acknowledge Fi and Michael with a nod.

"Thank you all. It doesn't seem enough to just say it, though. I wish there was something I could do." She turned in Sam's grip and acknowledged them.

"Don't worry about it, Yvette. We've still got some work to do to make sure that none of this comes back to haunt you."

"There's no need for that Westen." Everyone turned at the sound of Paxson's voice. She stood near the elevator with one hand on her hip. "You were right. We searched the yacht and found a whole cache of weapons. But it wasn't the guns we were looking for. We found the murder weapon, a knife that was discarded in the scuffle that Miss McCain recalled in her interview. It was under the bed where the murder took place and still had traces of both Miss McCain and Ms. Roche's blood on it. Preliminary tests show that the fingerprints on the handle do not match Miss McCain, nor do they match anyone we currently have in custody. My guess is, whoever did the deed was also killed at some point."

Fiona glanced at Michael. They took out three of Roche's men. Could one of them have been the murderer?

"Yes, I know, it would have been nice to find the killer alive, but..." She sighed deeply. "Sometimes we don't get that lucky."

"Thanks for the update, Detective."

"Don't mention it."

Michael, Fiona, Sam and Yvette passed her and waited for another elevator next to the one Paxson blocked.

"Oh, and by the way. I don't know if this will matter any, Miss McCain, but...I'm glad we didn't send the wrong person to jail." She smiled at Yvette, the first genuine smile that Michael and his friends had ever seen from her. "No hard feelings?"

"You were just doing your job, I guess." Yvette responded softly.

The elevator opened, giving them a chance to leave without saying what was really on their minds. As the doors closed, Sam heard her mutter, "I'll take that as a 'no'."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Sam, you really don't have to do this," Yvette protested for the umpteenth time as he unlocked the door of his apartment and let her inside.

"And I'm telling you that, yes, I do. You don't feel safe at your place, so for the time being, you can stay here." He carried her suitcase inside, gently ushered her into the living area, and continued to the end of the hall into his bedroom. "You can have my bed, and I'll take the pullout in the spare room."

"No. I can't let you do that! If you're going to be stubborn enough about me staying here, at least let me choose where I will sleep!" She picked up the case that he laid on a chair and took it into the spare room.

"Yvette..." Sam sighed in exasperation.

She laughed and pushed him into the hall. "You're a real sweetheart, but I'm serious. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to change. After sitting in that cell in these clothes...no, wait. I feel like I need a shower." She quickly re-emerged with a new outfit and some toiletries in her arms. "So where's the bathroom?"

Sam directed her to the bathroom and then set to work perusing his mostly empty refrigerator for something to eat. "You've gotta be starving! Did they feed you anything in that place?"

"They tried, but I couldn't eat a thing. I was too stressed." The bathroom door closed, and the water in the shower drowned out any chance of a conversation.

By the time she came out to the living area, Sam was dressed in white pants and a clean shirt that matched the baby blue dress she took into the bathroom with her. She smiled at him, one eyebrow cocked with a silent question.

"I thought we'd go out to eat. I know some great seafood places along the beach. We can walk there."

"That would be wonderful, to get out into the fresh sea air!"

He grinned. "I thought you'd say that." He stood, offered her his arm, and escorted her to the door.

From the time he locked it behind them until they reached the restaurant, she held onto Sam as if she were afraid he would suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke and be only a figment of her imagination. But he was completely for real. They were seated at a table under the stars, and she would have been swept away by the night, the candlelight, the soft music, and Sam's charm, but she knew better. He was just a friend, and he always would be. Still, she hung onto every moment until he knew she was dragging her feet.

"I'm sensing you don't want to go back yet, so let's head down the beach."

"That's a great idea." It was a romantic gesture, and Yvette knew she'd hate herself the next day for thinking the things she was thinking as they walked to the beach, but she allowed herself to fall head first into the fantasy.

They took off their shoes and walked barefoot through the sand until they reached the hard packed beach. The tide was high and washed over their feet as they turned south. Ahead of them, the coast turned slightly to the left, and the glow from the nightclubs and restaurants bled onto the sand, lighting their way. Sam's hand bumped against hers, and she was pleased when he responded to her touch by taking her hand in his. The warmth of his palm pressed into her skin and sent a streak of electricity through her. But then he stopped, and she turned to him, questioning with only her puzzled expression.

"Do you remember this place?"

She looked around. "No. It's just the beach."

"Not just any part of the beach." He slipped his hand around her waist, turned her to face the surf, and pointed toward the dark water. "This is about where I was fishing when I saw your hand rise up out of the water and you cried for help."

"Out there?"

"Yes." He looked at her with concern. "You still don't remember that part, huh?"

"No...I just remember being in terrible danger and then there you were holding onto me."

"It's probably best you don't remember. When I pulled you onto the beach, you weren't breathing. I..." He looked down and his gaze locked on her lips as he remembered enough for the two of them.

If it had been daylight, he would have seen her blush. She nestled into his side and it felt so good when he held her there, she closed her eyes. "I have been so blessed to have you come to my rescue, not once, but twice. I'll owe you forever, Sam."

"You don't owe me anything. It was just..." He turned her to face him as he pulled the little white box from his suit pocket. "Here. I bought you something when we were in Rio."

Yvette gasped. "For me? You didn't have to!"

"I wanted to. My mind was on the mission, but when I was working undercover, I saw this and it reminded me of you. I wanted to give it to you when I got back. That's how I wound up at your apartment when you were being arrested." He held out the box, she took it with a warm smile on her face, and he watched in anticipation as she pulled off the top.

"Oh...Sam...it's gorgeous!" The words came out in a wisp of her breath.

"Here, let me put it on you." He didn't have to ask her twice. She whirled around so her back faced him, and he clasped the ends of the necklace together while she held her hair up for him to reach her neck. That spot looked inviting, but he fought the urge to kiss it. Instead, he turned her to face him again.

"It's perfect, Sam." She beamed brighter than the lights of the coastline.

"It matches your dress...and more importantly...your eyes."

Yvette threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Her lips met his in a kiss that was more than just a friend thanking another. It stirred things in him that he wasn't sure he was ready to unleash. She was his friend, wasn't she? Desire warred with propriety in his mind, which was a new thing for him. He was a little relieved when she broke the contact.

"Yvette...I...wow, I don't know what to say." He laughed nervously.

She smiled. "I understand, Sam. But that's okay. I love you, and I know that's not an easy thing for you to acknowledge, but I'm willing to wait for the day when you can say it back." She left a light kiss on his upper lip and moved to his cheek before locking him into her embrace.

He enjoyed the closeness and nestled his cheek against hers. The fact that she understood how he felt without him saying anything blew him away. He knew then that he loved her too, but he had some personal obstacles to overcome first before he could begin to commit to anything. For once, he wanted to do this right.


End file.
